Saiyuki Heikosen
by leslina
Summary: Is Ni Jianyi truly a heartless evil genius, or is there more than meets the eye?
1. This is What I Brought You May Forget Me

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This story developed from two frustrations that I had with _Gensomaden Saiyuki. _The first being the sorry lack of female roles to balance the overwhelming male cast and the second being the meager background and painfully slow development of a truly despicable and yet riveting character in Dr. Ni Jianyi. Who is this man? What is his purpose? Is life truly just a game and are people puppets to be toyed with? Is he truly soulless? To what length would he go to amuse his seemingly never ending boredom with the world? This story is in part an original work of fiction as much as it is a work of fanfiction. The plot centers around Ni, but the story is told through the eyes of an original character of my design who is a relation of the delicious doctor. Spoilers for the _Saiyuki_ and _Saiyuki Reload_ manga will be referenced throughout the story. Story rating subject to change dependent on levels of violence and resident potty-mouths. As of yet there is no pre-determined number of chapters for this story. It will take its natural course. So, after four years of research and plotting I present you with...

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine, unless they're mine.

* * *

**Saiyuki Heikosen  
Chapter One: This is What I Brought You May Forget Me**

**_India_****_, Houtou Castle: Two Years Ago_**

Ni Jianyi shuffled into his laboratory office in Houtou Castle, reveling in the pleasant aches dancing along his limbs, his toes curling and furling behind ridiculous rabbit plush. He plopped onto the ergonomic chair, hitting the enter key of his computer's keyboard as he did so.

Several minutes of reading e-mails and news headlines produced nothing of real interest: A Doctor Hwan interested in the assistant position in the revival project, rumors of youkai attacking humans, heavy rains overflowing the banks of the Yangtze; flood, famine, Andy Lau releasing yet another album. Ni yawned and shut off the monitor. It was of no consequence to him, a world brimming with petty creations with even pettier concerns.

It was all so _boring_.

Ni leaned back in the chair, his lean hips gently swaying, and hugged his precious burden close. "What shall we do today?" he cooed, caressing the plush vessel in his hands.

"Hm?" He peered over the toy's head and regarded the computer. He leaned forward and turned the monitor on again and smiled at what he saw. "And the flower goes back to its root." (1)

VVV

**_China_****_, Chang'An: The Present _**

Chang'An boasted dual fame as a bustling town and spiritual center. A couple of miles outside the town rest the Chang'An Temple of the Setting Sun. Chang'An, like many of the towns in this province were provincial compared to the larger cities on the eastern and southern coast of the continent. But as the capital of the province it received quite a bit of attention. The town stood in a valley surrounded by forest. The buildings were modest and typical. Most of the dwellings constructed of wood or concrete allowing for the more ornate homes and establishments to easily stand out. It was late winter and the air still chilly this late in the day. At this hour most of the bustling patrons were at home seeing to dinner or enjoying a meal out with friends and family.

_"So here we are. You're not going to the Temple first?" _

"It can wait, Kyoaku. It's late and I'm tired. I'm also low on cash. The Temple will still be there."

Kyoaku snorted. _"The Temple, yes. I hope for your sake this one isn't Priest-less like the last one." _

"Kyoaku, are you actually concerned?"

_"Tch. Concern? Take heed, Kohaku. I've tolerated this arrangement long enough. We've meandered up and down this wretched country for nearly two years—" _

"It hasn't been easy. You know that, Kyoaku. Learning the language, needing to work for money—"

_"You promised me _blood_." _

"The search will go faster now. Just give it a little more time—"

_"A little time is all you've got, Kohaku, and only a little. Remember that." _

"Yes."

_"And instead of wasting time finding work call up that tasty friend of yours—Tomoko was it—and ask her for a loan." _

"I owe her enough. Besides, she and Yuzo are going to have a baby soon. I won't be a burden to them."

_"And you rather a burden to me?" _

"It's different. We have an agreement. I need you, Kyoaku."

_"And you don't need your friends?"_ He mocked. _"The people who took you in, cleaned you up, offered comfort—"_

"**SHUT UP!** I use you, Kyoaku. You're as bound to me as I am to you. Don't _you_ forget that."

_"Tch. I forget what a cranky bitch you can be. Go find your stupid job." _

Further investigation of the quiet downtown revealed a solicitation for a dish washer on a restaurant window.

_"Not this again." _

"What? It's respectable work and it'll keep us away from curious eyes. Besides they can easily replace me after I leave."

_"Yeah and you'll break more dishes than you'll actually clean and end up with beans for wages, if that." _

"Shut up. I need the work."

Kohaku paused in front of the restaurant which boasted the only all you can eat lunch and dinner buffet in town. Unlike the other establishments on the same street, the building was traditional architecture; a jewel in the crown that was Guang Fu Street, Chang'An's dining district. Where most of the buildings were wood, gray brick and mortar made for a strong yet appealing frame. A curved roof of glazed red clay and three over hanging lanterns completed the outer structure. It was symmetry and balance in every respect.

Mandarin House Family Buffet, Kohaku winced at the name and hoped the owners were merely taking pride in their culture and not over zealous nationalists. Kohaku admired the beautiful calligraphy on the door and front window; a gorgeous five-toed Chinese dragon wrapped around the entire perimeter of the building. This wasn't a factory issue paste-on decal or

sponged-on stencil.

This was art.

Taking a deep breath, Kohaku stepped inside. The lighting was dim, but not gloomy. Five large over hanging lanterns and individual standing lanterns on the tabletops provided the soft illumination. The tables were of dark lacquer and were situated to the four corners of the room. At the center of the dining hall were two long serving tables heaped with an assortment of steaming foods. Traditional Chinese accessories adorned the walls but in contrast to the gorgeous original art on the outside of the restaurant, these were obviously cheap and manufactured.

Kohaku caught the gaze of a little boy staring agape from a nearby table and nodded. A woman Kohaku could only assume was his mother called his name, repeating it when he failed to respond. She turned her head to see what distracted him from his dinner and recoiled at the sight of Kohaku standing at the foyer. Kohaku acknowledged the woman with a nod.

The woman returned the polite greeting by quickly looking away. She smacked her son's head when he didn't do the same.

"Welcome to Mandarin House (2)," said the hostess, who appeared from the tapestry behind the counter. She was a pretty, willowy girl with large dark eyes and hair rolled into twin buns on her head. "Just one…?" The pretty smile faltered.

"Actually," Kohaku slowly uttered the now familiar words. "I'd like to inquire about the job; dish washer, has it been filled?"

The young hostess stammered. "Uh…no, no it hasn't." Realizing she stared, the hostess cleared her throat and apologized. "I'm sorry, please wait here, I'll go get my father—Mr. Chow. He's the owner."

"Thank you."

The hostess scuttled behind the large tapestry again. The tapestry matched the décor on the walls and boasted a large waving cat with a bell collar. The word tacky came to mind. Kohaku found it more than odd that the owners would take so much care with the restaurant's outer appeal and skimp on its interior. It lacked the balance and symmetry one would expect coming in from the outside. On the counter top beside the register sat a red Buddha figure with offerings of coins and oranges around it. Kohaku frowned at the idol, and suppressed the urge to cut off its offending head (3).

She schooled her features again as the hostess remerged from the tapestry, an older man, Mr. Chow she presumed, on her heels.

He was gruff and to the point. "So you're interested in the job? Your name?"

"Taki Kohaku."

Along with the surly demeanor, Mr. Chow sported a completely bald head eerily similar to the Buddha on the counter. Kohaku suppressed the urge to cut it off, too.

Chow paused at this and frowned. "A foreigner, huh."

_"Genius, this one."_ Kyoaku muttered.

"If it's a problem, I'll go—"

"You ever wash dishes before?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"What's with the sword?"

_"And here we go." _

"This old thing?" Kohaku waived dismissively, nearly tripping on the words. "Just an old family heirloom, it's not even sharp. I'm hoping to sell it actually."

_"Bitch." _

Kohaku squeezed the sword's hilt. If it had been an actual neck it'd snap from the force.

"Fine," Chow relented. "I'll give you the job, but I don't want any trouble. We've had enough problems with the youkai going crazy. The last thing this town needs is some foreigner running around adding to the mix. Eight yen a day. You get paid at the end of the week."

"Uh…" Kohaku stammered catching the words 'trouble' and 'youkai' from the man's brusquely rapid speech. It probably wasn't a good idea to ask him to repeat himself, but she understood the rest of what he said and bowed to show her respect and thanks.

"Thank you, Chow-san."

"Mr. Chow." Chow scowled.

"Yes—Mr. Chow."

Chow grunted. "Don't suppose you need somewhere to sleep?"

"I do. If you'd be so kind as to recommend—"

"You can sleep in my son's room upstairs. He's run off to join the Battalion, the idiot." He muttered absently. "Likely to blow his own head off…That's three yen a night. I'll deduct it from your wages."

_Son?_ Kohaku squinted hoping she understood _sleep in_ and not _sleep with_ said son. "Thank you, Mr. Chow."

"But Father!" The pretty hostess blurted. Kohaku had noticed the girl quietly brimming in the background. Whatever happened to Mr. Chow's son, it was behind the hostess's tension; or maybe Kohaku _had_ misunderstood Mr. Chow.

"An'Mei, show our new employee to the kitchen. You can show her the upstairs later. Those dishes aren't going to wash themselves."

An'Mei disappeared in a huff behind the tacky tapestry. Kohaku started to follow.

"What's wrong with your leg?"

"Oh, just an old injury. It won't interfere with my work." Kohaku reassured.

"See that it doesn't." Chow disappeared behind the tacky tapestry.

"What have I just stepped into?" Kohaku murmured in Japanese.

_"An afternoon dorama_ (4)_." _Kyoaku snorted in disgust.

VVV

Later, An'Mei showed Kohaku to the room where she would sleep. The room was a small, sparse space; a window overlooked a single bed, a two drawer chest and architects desk made up the rest of the furniture. The walls were white wash and bare, save for a few mounting nails with nothing hanging from them. Another glance around the room and Kohaku noted several canvases stacked between the desk and wall.

And no Chow Junior to Kohaku's relief.

"You can put your things in the drawer there, it's empty." An'Mei indicated with a nod of her head as she walked back to the door.

The drawer was more than enough room for her things. Kohaku's satchel was more a modest survival kit than a travel bag. She dropped the pack down on the bed and toured the room. The bed's head board and chest were of the same dark lacquer as the tables in the restaurant downstairs. The glossy finish reflected the rays of moonlight coming in from the window.

Someone was keeping the room clean.

Kohaku pulled out the additional sash to tie up the sleeves of her kimono from her pack. She regarded the empty wall mounts with a frown. Her eyes strayed to the canvases across the room between the desk and wall. She padded to the corner, tying the final knot of the sash and leaned over to poke at one of the canvases.

"Don't touch those." An'Mei glared from the doorjamb.

"Sorry." Kohaku took a step back; unawares the other girl still lingered at the bedrooms threshold.

An'Mei shook her head and retreated from the doorway.

Kohaku waited a minute before turning back to the canvas. She fingered the texture of the fabric stretched over wood. There was just enough room between the wall and table to tilt the painting and see the artist's hidden creation.

"Huh." Kohaku murmured.

Written in large bold brush stroke was the character 'strength'.

VVV

Dish washing wasn't the most stimulating of odd jobs she done over the past couple of years, but Kohaku found the monotony and silence of the task calming.

_"This is so boring." _

The plate Kohaku held slipped to the floor, shattering loudly.

Relative silence, anyway.

"That's coming out of your wages, Kohaku." Mr. Chow yelled from the stock area adjacent to the kitchen.

Kohaku sighed and crouched on her haunches to pick up the shattered pieces of the plate, placing them gingerly on her apron.

"In a few days I'll take my earnings and then we'll go to the Temple and find out if the Priest there is—"

"Kohaku!"

"Huh?"

An'Mei stood at the kitchen entrance her face set in the same scowl she adopted the previous night.

"My father's already asked you not to speak that language in the restaurant. It unsettles the customers."

Kohaku inhaled a deep breath and expelled it slowly. Not since she first arrived in China had she encountered such hostility of her lapsing into Japanese. In recent months most people mocked her accent and clumsy attempts at communication. "I'm sorry, An'Mei-san, it won't happen again."

"Who are you talking to anyway?" The girl demanded.

"No one, just…talking to myself."

"Well it's creepy."

"I'm sorry."

"And do you have to carry that thing with you all the time?"

"It's a sword," Kohaku clarified.

"Whatever." An'Mei bristled. "It's creepy, too. In fact, _you're_ creepy."

Kohaku sighed inwardly.

"An'Mei! Customers!" Mr. Chow yelled from the dining room.

"I'm coming, father." With a final glare at Kohaku, An'Mei hurried back in the restaurant.

_"I think she likes you." _

"It's not personal," Kohaku defended, carefully rising up from the floor and disposing the broken plate pieces. "She just misses her brother."

_"Tch,"_ Kyoaku muttered. _"Stupid sentimentality."_

Kyoaku's persona spoke so clearly in her mind, Kohaku could sometimes imagine it in avatar form; a rogue samurai with scruffy hair, battle scars worn like trophies and a malevolent grin that would frighten even Enma-sama (5).

Kohaku smiled, dunking another load of dirty dishes into the sink. "Tomoko took some time to warm up to me too."

VVV

Kohaku plopped down on the bed, glad to be able to sit down after eight hours of work. She set Kyoaku against the wall beside the head board and brought her heels up one at a time to inspect the soles of her waraji (6).

"These are going to need replacing soon," she sighed as she inspected the string weaving. She untied the thongs and carefully placed the weathered sandals beside her feet on the floor. She then worked on removing the protective tape from her calves down to her toes before massaging the sore muscles and tendons.

Kohaku rotated the ankle of her left leg and then the right and winced. "It's definitely going to rain tonight," she said aloud.

"How do you know?" An'Mei asked from the door way. "Your foot tell you that?"

"In a sense," Kohaku chuckled and then sobered at An'Mei's scowl. "My…ankle?" Kohaku pointed to the joint in explanation. "People who suffer joint injuries and fractures are sensitive to dampness in the air."

"I thought that only happened with old people?"

Kohaku shook her head. "No. Not just old people."

"So what happened? To your leg. You fall or something?"

"I—"

_Fuck! She kicked my face. Stupid bitch! _

_Stop being a pussy, Asano, and tie her up already! _

_Hold still, little girl… damn it, this one's got a pair of stems on her… fuck! _

_You really are a useless bastard, Asano, move… you shoulda done this from the start… _

"Hey, are you going to throw up or something?"

Kohaku swallowed shaking her head of the memory. "No, I'm just tired. It was a stupid accident. I'm a bit of a...?" Kohaku imitated a stumble.

"You're a klutz. I've noticed. You've broken quite a few dishes the past couple of days."

Kohaku winced.

"My brother, Li," An'Mei leaned back from the door frame, her eyes roving sadly through the small room. "He dropped dishes all the time."

Kohaku's brow knitted together. _Brother? Li? Her brother's name is Li._

An'Mei turned away. "You better sleep. The restaurant is booked for a reception tomorrow. It'll be another long day." She lingered before adding, "don't break anymore dishes."

VVV

_Look at this Hiro, she's wearing a man's kimono, whatcha hiding underneath there— _

_Fuck! She kicked my face. Stupid bitch! _

_Stop being a pussy, Asano, and tie her up already! _

_Hold still,little girl… damn it, this one's got a pair of stems on her… fuck! _

_You really are a useless bastard, Asano, move… you shoulda done this from the start… _

_Ahhhh! _

Kohaku started awake. She reached for Kyoaku and hugged the sword close. Her heart hammered in her chest and her under clothes stuck to her skin. Outside rain lightly pelted against the window, but the room was too hot and stifling and she unhinged the lock and pushed the window open breathing in the scent of cool night and damp earth.

Her ankle throbbed dully, the pulsing ache mimicking that of her racing heart. She sucked in deep ragged breaths and swallowed the acrid tears that welled in the back of her throat. Kohaku curled her knees inward and unsheathed the sword partway and laid her damp cheek against the cold steel.

If not for Kyoaku, the nightmare would have been worse, so much worse.

_"I can promise you no more nightmares Kohaku, if you'd just—" _

"No." Kohaku flinched, Kyoaku's caress like the lick of a hot flame singing her mind. She sheathed the sword again. "My will. Mine."

_"Kohaku,"_ Kyoaku's wicked laughter echoed in her head. _"You haven't been in control since the first day." _

"Mine." Kohaku rasped, her knuckles turning white on the hilt and scabbard.

VVV

The reception, as it turned out, was a post wedding banquet. The groom, Kohaku made out, was the son of a close friend of the family. The reception was Mr. Chow's gift to the young couple.

Kohaku regarded the bride and groom, marveling at all the red and gold adorning the bride's dress to the decorations and table settings. Kohaku recalled an image of Tomoko and Yuzo's wedding, so much white and pastels; the image was a blur on the cell phone screen, but she still could make out Tomoko in full shiro-maku (7) dress, wrapped in layers of silk and jeweled combs, looking like a big shiny gift Yuzo couldn't wait to unwrap.

"She looks pretty."

"Huh?" Kohaku started, blushing and feeling like a peeper who was discovered… _peeping_.

"I'm sorry," Jun, the extra hand hired for the event apologized. "First Chinese wedding?"

"It's so different," Kohaku murmured. "So much—"

"Red?"

"Yeah."

Jun laughed. "Red and gold, for everything just about, weddings, New Year…"

"Funerals?"

Jun blinked. "White."

Kohaku smiled and peered into the dining room again. "So different."

Relegated to the back of the restaurant throughout most of the day, Kohaku missed out on the elaborate procession that arrived at the restaurant. The Wang's pulled out all the stops for their son and daughter-in-law with the traditional affair that occurred over several days.

"So the… groom's," Kohaku nodded towards the couple in the dining room, "a friend of the family?" she inquired, as she helped Jun with some trash bags.

Jun blinked. "You understand quite a bit, Kohaku. How long have you been in China now?"

"I guess…" Kohaku considered, "two…years?"

Jun nodded and busied herself with tying another trash bag. "I've always wanted to travel, learn another language…" She said wistfully. "See what's outside Chang'An."

Kohaku nodded and opened another bag. When Kohaku didn't respond Jun figured the other girl hadn't understood her or didn't want to elaborate on her travels so she returned to the subject of the wedding couple.

"Anyway, the groom over there, he's the son of Mr. Wang, Mr. Chow's best friend. Mr. Wang owns the dry cleaners in town. Their sons were also best friends. Such a shame Li couldn't be here," Jun shook her head sadly.

"I think Mr. Chow said something about him running off to join the…Battalion?" Kohaku hoped she said the right word.

"Li—"

"That's enough, Jun," An'Mei seethed from the entranceway. "Matters of my family are none of Kohaku's concern."

"Forgive me, Miss An'Mei." Jun quickly apologized scuttling from the kitchen with a bag of trash in either hand.

VVV

The festivities continued on into the early morning. An exhausted Kohaku hobbled up the stairs and fell on the bed. Thankfully, the restaurant was only opened for dinner later in the day. Kohaku reached inside her kimono 8 and took out her kiseru (9) and tobacco pouch. She sighed with the first taste of the tobacco's sweetness in her mouth.

_"Money well spent that,"_ Kyoaku sighed wistfully.

Kohaku snorted. "You almost sound like a man, Kyoaku."

_"Pots and kettles." _

Kohaku sighed. "Sometimes I wish I'd been born a man, then—"

_"You'd still be an insufferable woman," _Kyoaku snorted. _"A dick won't change who you really are, Kohaku. Wearing a dead man's kimono and carrying another's sword hasn't—" _

"Pots and kettles, Kyoaku," Kohaku shot back as she rolled her eyes, unperturbed by the sword-kami's (10) vulgar words. Very little that spewed out of his proverbial mouth shocked her anymore. Kyoaku was everything his namesake described. The spirit was pure malevolence and brutality; inhuman in every sense. Kohaku was certain her choice of name for the spirit was the one thing that appeased it enough to tolerate their arrangement of three years. She tapped the pipe bowl out the window, emptying it of the burned ash and set about cleaning the thin bamboo pipe. She regarded the sakura (11) petal design on the kiseru's silver bowl cap and her eyes, for just a moment, softened with longing.

Sometimes the kiseru appeased him too.

_"Tch." _

Kohaku laughed.

VVV

Kyoaku was restless the rest of the evening and this edge transferred to Kohaku who tossed and turned on the bed.

"What is it?" Kohaku sighed, pulling on the sleeves of her kimono as she sat up.

_"Blood." _

"What do you mean?" Kohaku's face burned. "It's not that time yet," she muttered retracting her earlier thought. Some topics _were_ still sacred.

_"Not that, idiot,"_ Kohaku could visualize the sword-kami's wicked grin. _"Someone from this household has spilled blood." _

Kohaku stumbled to her feet. "Mr. Chow? An'Mei-san?"

_"I don't know, woman,"_ Kyoaku growled with mounting annoyance.

Kohaku's brow pinched in thought. "But we're the only people here. Unless—Huh?"

The sound of door hinges made Kohaku still. The floor boards of the hallway creaked mutely and then receded.

Someone had gone downstairs.

Kohaku counted to ten before peering out her door. The hall was clear and both Mr. Chow's and An'Mei's doors were shut. Mr. Chow, having imbibed enough liquor to fill a swimming hole, had immediately gone to bed after the banquet.

Padding as quietly as she could with her uneven gate, Kohaku slowly opened Mr. Chow's door. She peered in and expelled a sigh of relief. On his bed and still dressed, was Mr. Chow, his snores as loud as a fog horn. She shut the door again and went to An'Mei's room.

It occurred to Kohaku to consider the possible scenarios that awaited behind the door and what they could imply; An'Mei's body hacked to bits with someone really unpleasant catting around the Chow's establishment or the room empty, with someone no less unpleasant sneaking around. Kohaku pushed the door carefully and peeked inside.

Empty.

Kohaku considered her course of action. An'Mei had every right to sneak out if she wanted, but Kyoaku's intuition was infallible and discerning. An'Mei could be in danger. Or, if she wasn't, then perhaps someone she knew... someone close to her.

_"It's none of your business." _

Kohaku glared. "Did I ask your opinion?"

_"Tch." _

Kohaku hurried awkwardly down the stairs and to the outside. She looked up and down the empty block. East or West? She wondered. East led toward the Temple, but there was a good patch of wilderness between here and there. West led to the outskirts of town and the main path and vehicle roads.

"The blood, can you still sense it Kyoaku?"

_"She went West. What the hell, we might run into something alive and choppable between here and there." _

Kohaku snorted and jogged west. She hated running. Not that it was difficult exercise or anything. Years of mountain life could make even one as graceless and clumsy as her hearty and nearly two years of traveling on foot hadn't hurt either.

No, Kohaku hated running because she looked like a damn hermit crab doing it.

_"Heh." _

Kohaku scowled. "Don't start Kyoaku."

She caught up with the willowy figure of An'Mei Chow nearly a quarter of a mile down the road. The other girl's attire was not nearly as practical as Kohaku's own kimono and waraji. An'Mei wore a pale pien-fu (12) and matching slippers. Kohaku couldn't tell its color as the shiny silk reflected light from the full moon above. An'Mei also carried a small travel bag that bounced against her slender hips. Kohaku envied her straight determined gate. It reminded her of the women in Tomoko's glossy fashion magazines.

"An'Mei-san," Kohaku called out breathlessly.

An'Mei stopped in her tracks and whirled around and called out disbelieving. "Kohaku? What are you doing here?"

"I was...wondering…the same thing." Kohaku caught up with the taller girl, her limp more pronounced. She inhaled deeply of the dewy air. Dusk was only a few hours away.

"Where I go is none of your business."

"True." Kohaku conceded. "But I'm more concerned with my livelihood. Your father will surely blame me if he finds you missing and send for the authorities or worse he could fire me and I _really_ need this job."

"You're—" An'Mei's shoulders sagged with defeat. "You're so _weird_."

Kohaku shrugged. "Better weird than _creepy_."

"I suppose I haven't given you a fair chance," An'Mei averted Kohaku's eyes. "It's just," she wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "My father's been so stupid."

"We should probably move off the road," Kohaku suggested gently indicating to the trees with a nod of her chin. "I'm sure there's a tree stump where we can sit for bit. That jog winded me some."

The two girls walked away from the road and Kohaku kept her hand on Kyoaku's hilt, anticipating anything in the dark, but the sword remained hushed at her side and the woods were serene. They found a fallen tree a few yards off the road and sat side by side. Problem solving was the least of Kohaku's talents, but listening didn't require much aptitude. If An'Mei needed to unburden herself it was no hardship to oblige her, even if she only understood a little.

"Things have been unbearable for months now." An'Mei sighed deeply, the lines of her young face relaxing for the first time since Kohaku had met the girl days before. The admittance seemed to unlock the pressure cooker building within her.

Kohaku gave a patient nod and waited for the other girl to continue.

"Mom died a year ago, and my younger brother Li and I picked up the slack with the restaurant. Believe it or not, it's not all bad. It really was a family business. It never felt like work when mom was around. It was fun. She knew everyone that came in and if she didn't know you she'd still made you feel welcome. She was nothing like dad. I sometimes wonder how they ever even married. Kohaku, I'm really sorry about my father—"

Kohaku shrugged dismissively. "It's…alright."

"No, it's not. He was a jerk. I mean, you do come off a little weird and all what with the clothes and the sword and the funny accent…" An'Mei missed Kohaku's affronted scowl. "But you didn't deserve the attitude or interrogation when you came in asking about the job."

Kohaku smiled wanly. "Thank you."

An'Mei nodded and continued. "Li had fun playing restaurant when mom was alive, but he never really took to the business. He's a little shy and has a stutter. He wasn't any good at hosting. He'd mess up orders all the time when he waited tables. He can't boil water, so cooking was out of the question and he was always dropping dishes. Dad was constantly ragging on him. Who else could he depend to take over the business if not his only son?"

Kohaku listened carefully, her brow knitting in concentration at the words she didn't recognize but she thought she got the gist of what An'Mei said. "I suppose," she began slowly. "Most fathers hope their sons follow in their…" Kohaku shuffled her feet.

"Footsteps," An'Mei finished.

Kohaku repeated the word and continued. "You do a pretty good job An'Mei. You're quite the," Kohaku paused as she thought of the word, "task master."

"Are you implying that I'm bossy?" An'Mei frowned.

"Bossy. Yes." Kohaku nodded vigorously.

An'Mei chuckled ruefully. "I suppose I am. I wouldn't mind taking over things if Dad ever decided to retire, but he's so traditional." An'Mei sighed. "He's so caught up with Old World customs and what a woman's place should be."

A woman's place, Kohaku thought resentfully, was her own to decide for herself.

An'Mei smiled. "There is one thing Li's really good at though. Li's an amazing artist. Mom mounted a lot of his work around the restaurant; tapestries, sketches, paintings. His calligraphy was exceptional."

"The dragon outside and the canvases in his room…he did all that?" She marveled.

An'Mei scowled. "My father took them down after Li left. I guess he didn't want any reminders of Li's pointless talent. He even took down the ones hanging in the restaurant. Painting over the dragon would have been too much trouble. Besides, the customers really like it. But that tacky lucky cat tapestry," An'Mei made a gagging motion.

Kohaku giggled, having the same thought when she first saw the awful tapestry behind the register. "My friend Yuki would say 'hideous'," she murmured softly.

"It is! It is hideous!" An'Mei laughed.

"So I take it Li left to escape your father's disapproval, but why the Battalion? Was it to fight the youkai? Have there been many attacks in this area?"

An'Mei gripped the corner of her pink silk tunic-suit shirt. "I received a post card from Li about a month after he left. He said he joined the Battalion to become a man. I guess he thought a military regiment might break him of his clumsy ways. As for the youkai," An'Mei shrugged. "I remember hearing of an incident a little over a week ago, just before you arrived. Jun said a couple of local guys were playing cards at one of the gambling houses on the other side of town. The man that lost the card game was a youkai, he got so angry that he lost it, went berserk like the papers have been reporting, but things have been pretty quiet in town. A lot of the youkai families around here have moved since the reports almost three years ago."

Kohaku mulled over An'Mei's description of things in Chang'An. It was a little strange how similar the stories were throughout every place she'd been. Attacks didn't seem on the scale as the newspapers and radio reported, and it seemed that the youkai were at least drawing away from their settlements and the general population. In fact, recent events aside, Kohaku could count on one hand the number of rogue youkai she'd encountered since leaving Ontake almost two years ago.

"Hey, Kohaku," An'Mei queried. "Were there a lot of attacks in your country? Is that why you came here?"

Kohaku worried her lip. "A while ago, there was word of attacks in some areas, mainly the mountains. But that's not why I left Japan." _Not exactly_, she thought but didn't add. Kohaku paused, and considered her response to the other part of An'Mei's question. Most people didn't take the time to ask her why she was in China, not that she'd be forthcoming with her reasons anyway, but Kohaku felt compelled to give An'Mei as close to an honest answer as she could. "I have no family," Kohaku said carefully, "but I was told I might have some relatives in this country."

"Really?" An'Mei perked with excitement, momentarily forgetting her troubles. "Do you know where? Know their names? My father knows a few families in different provinces from his business dealings. He might be able to help with a few contacts."

Kohaku shook her head. It was nice of An'Mei to offer, but the less involved she and her family were the better. Kohaku learned settling for too long in one place only brought trouble to those around her. "No. No name but these relatives may have known a Buddhist Priest, that's why I came to Chang'An." Alright, not entirely the truth but not entirely a lie either.

"You mean the Sanzo Priest, at the Temple of the Setting Sun?"

Kohaku fought the urge to shake the girl's shoulders for every bit of information she might possibly know on the subject. "So…there is a Priest there?"

"Yeah," An'Mei confirmed. "He came from a place up north a few years back. He's a bit _odd_, for a Priest. The town made a really big deal about it," the girl mused. "There was even a parade and fireworks."

Kohaku quirked a curious brow.

"He's eaten at the restaurant a few times." An'Mei continued. "It was before mom died. He always had this kid with him; took 'all you can eat' to whole other level. We couldn't refill the chafer dishes fast enough. It made mom smile watching someone who just enjoyed food and eating. I think that's when dad lost the last of his hair." An'Mei laughed. "Not that he could complain. Every check was paid in full no matter the amount and the tips were nothing to complain about. The kid," An'Mei paused realizing something. "His eyes were like yours. Pretty." She raised a finger to Kohaku's temple.

"Interesting," Kohaku murmured looking away to hide her blush. Pretty was not an adjective she was used to having associated with any part of her person and Kohaku didn't delude herself otherwise. But this news of the Priest excited her and her mind raced with several different scenarios of the impending encounter at the Temple, many of which Kyoaku embellished with his own flair for violence.

"I hope you find something out about your family, Kohaku. You shouldn't be alone, without family." An'Mei's mood dampened again. "I worry about Li. Dad's right; he's going to get himself shot or maybe fall in a ditch…"

"You're very…_protective_…of him," Kohaku observed. "He must love his ji ji (13) very much."

An'Mei nodded and laughed. "You totally butchered that."

Kohaku scowled, her cheeks tinting again.

"He was always a sensitive boy," An'Mei continued. "I couldn't help watch over him, especially after mom…"

"You're a good _older sister_, An'Mei-san," Kohaku commended, taking care with the elocution this time. "So what now? Are you still going after Li? That's where you were going wasn't it? To find him?"

An'Mei shrugged and removed something from the pocket of her tunic-suit pants. "I received another post card from him today. He seemed so depressed and disappointed. I just wanted to see him again and tell him to come back home. He doesn't have to change to please me. He'll always be my brother."

Kohaku sensed Kyoaku's aura stir to life. The post card. The blood he sensed earlier, Li had spilt the blood of another and now his sensitive artists' hands were tainted.

A streak of moonlight revealed the beautiful black calligraphy against the pale note card and Kohaku mutely gasped at the signature. It was the same character from the canvas. Strength. Li meant strength. _Pots and kettles_, Kohaku thought of her earlier conversation with Kyoaku and wondered how often Li dwelled on the irony of his namesake in his small room above the restaurant.

"He'll come back," Kohaku said with certainty. "He has someone to come home to that will always accept him."

"_Kohaku…_"

"We should head back to town," Kohaku rose from where she sat and stretched her arms to shrug off the melancholy that loitered in her mind.

An'Mei nodded and stood as well. Li would come back home. She had to believe that.

The two girls walked in companionable silence for several yards until An'Mei broke the quiet with another question.

"Hey, Kohaku,"

"Hm?"

"Is—"

"GET BACK!" At the moment of Kyoaku's warning Kohaku's first instinct was to push An'Mei out of harm's way. She should've known. Something always lurked in the dark.

"Wh—" An'Mei didn't have much time to react when Kohaku nearly shoved her to the ground and drew her sword. "Kohaku…what are you—Oh, my god, a youkai!"

_"Finally, some action."_ Kyoaku crowed with delight. _"Don't disappoint me, Kohaku."_

Kohaku tensed, fingers flexing and un-flexing on Kyoaku's hilt. "Just stay behind me An'Mei-san!"

"For a lame little thing, you cover quite a bit of ground," the youkai chuckled in fluent Japanese moving out of the shadows.

It was a moment before Kohaku realized the youkai spoke to her in Japanese, so used Kyoaku's gravelly bass the youkai's lilting tenor seemed almost foreign to her.

"I've been following you for a long time, Ko-ha-ku; Nanking, Wuhan, Kinzan, up and down, always keeping my distance, always a few steps behind. He warned me about that fancy sword of yours. You're very own trouble detector or maybe it's the other way around?"

Kohaku fought the shiver that went up her spine. _No way… _

_"Hold your ground, woman_," Kyoaku growled.

The youkai, and he was definitely a youkai, leered in their direction as he ran a long, pointed tongue across gleaming canines. Deadly claws flexed idly as he remained still and waiting. It wasn't the usual tell-tale physical signs that made her more wary than usual. What Kohaku found most startling were the odd tentacles crawling from beneath his dark hair, young face and wiry arms—wiring. Electrical wiring on flesh and blood?

"Who are you?" Kohaku demanded. "The man who sent you, where is he? Tell me his name."

"My name's Yu and I'm just a messenger," the youkai shrugged carelessly, and then smiled. "By the way, Daddy says hello."

_Impossible. There's no way…no way… _

_"Get a hold of yourself, woman, this guy's just playing with you. Hurry up and kill him." _

"I can see you're shocked, but I guess I might be too if…aw hell," the youkai shrugged dismissively. "I'da just killed the bastard."

"Kohaku…?" An'Mei's questioning gasp broke Kohaku from her swirling thoughts.

"Hm? Who's this tasty morsel?" The youkai said slipping in Chinese for her benefit as he looked at An'Mei with an interest that was anything but friendly.

"She's no concern of yours," Kohaku growled, maintaining her stance between An'Mei and the youkai. "Why now? You've been following me all this time, why make yourself known here?"

The youkai sighed feigning a thoughtful pose. "Who the hell knows with that crazy bastard?" Kohaku envied the ease in which he flowed from one language to the other. "In any case," the grin he flashed An'Mei was predatory. "My job here is done. He left strict orders not to hurt you, but any acquaintances of yours were free pickings."

Behind her, Kohaku heard An'Mei's muffled squeal.

Growing increasingly impatient and restless, Kyoaku snarled. _"This guy is pissing me off. Move on with the maiming, Kohaku." _

"She's not yours for the picking." Kohaku took a step forward.

Yu chuckled. "No need to be jealous. With a little polish, even you might shine."

Kohaku ignored the jibe. "You're not touching her."

"That stick you're waving around doesn't scare me. In fact you should put it away before you hurt yourself."

Kyoaku's aura flared and Kohaku fought to keep it in check. Indirect insults to his blade were the fastest way to the top of his shit list.

_"Kill him."_ Kyoaku snarled.

"I've got this," Kohaku said confidently.

"Huh?" An'Mei sputtered from behind.

_"Hurry it up, Kohaku." _

"Just wait."

"Kohaku?" An'Mei looked incredulously from the other girl to the youkai in their way.

_"Why are you hesitating? He's not going to answer anymore of your useless questions. Unless you want me to—" _

"No! I won't let An'Mei see me that way. I won't yield my control to you, Kyoaku. My will, my strength."

"Kohaku, I don't understand what you're saying!"

_"Do it." _

"An'Mei-san, run."

"What—No."

Yu grinned and regarded the foreign girl with amused curiosity. The doctor said she could commune with the sword, but Yu just pegged her for a crazy ass bitch. The physical resemblance was undeniable; maybe craziness was genetic, too. Like in those stories he heard as a kid.

"I love the stupid ones." Yu flicked his head causing his hair and strange extensions to flair about him. Kohaku didn't think he could be more anymore appalling. "Enough chit-chat," the youkai growled and lunged clear over Kohaku's head. He landed neatly on both feet behind An'Mei who screamed and scrambled back against Kohaku, who toppled to the ground with a hard thud.

Kohaku grunted. "_Shit._"

Yu pounced, diving for his goal of a startled and paralyzed An'Mei, who closed her eyes and screamed once again. Kohaku recovered and clambered to her knees. With both hands on the hilt of her sword, she sliced through the air between Yu and An'Mei.

"You goddamn bitch!" Yu writhed, his hand falling on the ground with a soft thud in front of An'Mei.

The girl opened her eyes and shrieked, scrambling away from the bloody stump. Kohaku righted herself and kicked the still pulsing severed hand away before she tripped over it. An'Mei gagged and covered her mouth. She scuttled further back from where the youkai and Kohaku stood kicking dirt and rocks around her and snagging her expensive pink silk tunic-suit and slippers.

Kohaku loomed over Yu who made no move to attack. "There's an old saying about messengers," she said with an eerie calm. "Don't shoot them. I don't know how to use a gun, so this sword will have to do."

Yu snarled indignantly and cursed that goddamn bastard. Either way, he was as good as dead if he touched the bitch. Yu realized he shuddered and that it wasn't from shock or blood loss. The bitch really was crazy. He looked in her eyes and swallowed hard. Perhaps there was truth behind those folktales after all. Her eyes, bright as amber stone were void of any emotion. Yu saw neither fear nor pleasure in what she was about to do. No resolution. And that scared the lackey more than anything. Even dying.

"Is there anything else you need to say before I kill you?"

"He'll be in touch." Yu rasped.

An'Mei, still behind Kohaku, cringed and looked away, unable to watch when Kohaku swung the blade through the youkai's neck. Two thuds broke the otherwise quiet of the early morning. Kohaku stood over the decapitated youkai and shook her head before turning around to regard An'Mei.

"Y-You—" An'Mei stammered staring up at the foreign woman who dressed in a man's robe, carried a sword and stepped into her family's restaurant to inquire about a job washing dishes.

"I killed him." Kohaku nodded, finishing the accusation while knowing how she must look to the other girl. If An'Mei only knew…an image of three men in a heap of unrecognizable flesh, limbs and blood flashed in her mind and Kohaku suppressed a shudder.

"Well, yeah, but you said that sword was dull."

Kohaku sputtered and blinked owlishly at the girl on the ground.

_"Tch."_ Kyoaku grunted. _"You and I need to have a little chat about that performance. That was sloppy even for _you_." _

Kohaku ignored Kyoaku's criticisms and re-sheathed the blade.

"I told you, I _really_ need this job." Kohaku extended her hand to help An'Mei up.

An'Mei chocked on a strangled laugh and accepted the support. "Thank you," she said.

"Li can't return to a home where his sister isn't waiting for him."

VVV

Ni yawned, lazily ruffling his hair as he shut off the computer monitor and smiled.

"That's new." Wang strolled into the office with a stack of files.

"What?" Ni twirled around in his chair searching his pockets for his cigarettes.

"That smile." Wang sat at his work station. Moments later the rapid clicking of his claws tapping away at the keyboard echoed in the room.

"You have any kids?" Ni asked the back of Wang's bald head.

The old youkai's furious typing paused. "That I know of…" he shrugged and resumed his work.

Ni grinned. "Spoken like a true bachelor."

VVV

Kohaku finished the rest of her employment at the Mandarin House Family Buffet without incident; well, aside from a few more broken dishes. An'Mei was ever the task master, but a fair task master. The tacky lucky cat pictures and tapestries were down and Li's paintings and crafts were back up, bringing new life to the restaurant. Mr. Chow hollered and fought every step of the way, but An'Mei, having inherited her father's stubbornness, insisted the paintings return to their rightful place or he would find himself without a son or daughter. Finding the prospect of a lonely existence wanting, he relented.

An'Mei handed Kohaku her wages, nearly a hundred yen and double what Mr. Chow agreed to five days earlier but minus the cost of twelve broken plates.

"And a small bonus for saving my life. Are you going to the Temple? Do you think he knows…?"

Kohaku shrugged. "I'll find out when I get there."

"Take care of yourself."

VVV

Kohaku arrived at the Chang'An Temple of the Setting Sun just before noon. She steeled herself before stepping through the unguarded entryway and paused in the courtyard. The layout of the compound was much larger and spread out compared to the Kinzan Temple grounds up north; and, there were people.

"Excuse me," Kohaku stopped a pair of monks in a hurry to get god knew only where in this place.

"Yes? _Guh_," this from monk number one. The other Kohaku dubbed monk two. Both stared with twin expressions that made Kohaku think of wild animals caught unawares. She wondered if they would run scared or stay and put up a fight. That is, if they recovered from the shock first.

_"Kill them." _

"Request denied," Kohaku murmured under her breath.

"I'm sorry M-Miss," monk number one found his tongue. "But women aren't allowed in the Temple."

"Technically this isn't the Temple. It's the courtyard." Kohaku countered.

"Still, outsiders—"

"If it makes you feel any better," Kohaku said sweetly. "I pray every night that I'm reincarnated as a man in my next life 14."

At least monk number one had the decency to wince; Kohaku was beginning to think maybe monk number two had swallowed his tongue after all.

Kohaku licked her lips and spoke the words she carefully recited on the way. "I would like an audience with the priest of this temple. I've traveled a long way and would like to ask him some questions."

"What business do you have with Priest Genjyo Sanzo?" monk number one asked suspiciously.

"None of yours," Kohaku said calmly.

"You—"

"I'm sorry Miss," monk number two had finally recovered and stayed his cohort. "You have to understand. Our ways—"

"I'm well aware of Buddhist customs and the scripture's regard towards women." Kohaku interjected unmoved. "Even a sanzo priest will address a woman." _Among other things_, she thought contemptuously. _But that's neither here or there. _

"Still, your weapon. Entering the temple armed—"

_"And these two are still alive because…?" _

"I have no intention of harming your precious priest. But it is urgent that I speak with him. It concerns a _private_ matter." Kohaku emphasized the word private with a waggle of her eye brows. If this Priest was anything as odd as An'Mei had said a little bluff might work in her favor.

Monk number two visibly paled. The expression on his face was so scandalized Kohaku had to bite back a laugh. "I'm s-sorry Miss, but Priest Sanzo isn't here."

Kohaku's face fell. "You're kidding."

Monk number one added quickly, "He left nearly a week ago on temple business."

"_Shit!_" Kohaku muttered in Japanese.

* * *

**Chapter Notes: **

(1) Japanese Buddhist Proverb: This proverb is most often used in reference to death, signifying that all forms go back into the nothingness out of which they spring. But it may also be used in relation to the law of cause-and-effect.

(2) Actual Chinese-American restaurant in the North East Bronx

(3) In late 1860s Japan, the government gave two orders announcing that Buddha throughout the country were to be destroyed. Many important works of art and documents in cultural history were burnt to ashes, and the heads of stone Buddha were also cut off.

(4) Japanese Soap Operas.

(5) Lord of the Under/Spirit world

(6) Japanese sandals made of straw rope

(7) Traditional Japanese wedding kimono

(8) Traditional Japanese clothing; robe like costume held together with an obi (sash).

(9) Japanese tobacco pipe

(10) God or Spirit

(11) Cherry Blossom

(12) Traditional Chinese clothing; two-piece costume of a tunic-like top extending to the knees and a skirt or trousers extending to the ankles.

(13) Chinese pinyin spelling; older sister

(14) Gender bias in thirteenth-century Buddhism endorsed the belief that it was impossible for women to achieve enlightenment according to the conception of the age and could only pray to be reincarnated as men.


	2. Journey to the Past

**Saiyuki Heikosen**  
**Chapter Two: Journey to the Past**

**_Japan_****_, Mount Ontake: Ten Years Ago_**

The height of summer on Mount Ontake was a sight to behold. The gorgeous color palate of vegetation was a feast for the eyes. Broad-leaf evergreens, magnificent oaks, red and black pines as well as red cedar and bamboo dominated the mountain flora over hundreds of acres. Other flowers and plants, like dropwort, wasabi, and chrysanthemums accented these tall majesties. There were a host of other natural wonders to entice the senses as well. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted two to and fro while crickets and cicadas competed in concert over the raging falls that cascaded at the foot of the mountain. Other natural inhabitants like the black bear fished for carp at the rivers and streams to stave the coming winter.

Kiso Ontake (1), as it was known to Nagoya natives, was the center of all things magical and spiritual in the prefecture. The only humans who dared venture the wondrous treasure were the Yamabushi. These mountain warriors followed the ways of Shugendo, an eclectic sect of Buddhism which melded Shinto beliefs with Buddhist doctrine and practice. But the Yamabushi were neither Shintoist nor Buddhist. Shugendo, "The Way of the Mountain", was a synthesized belief that worshipped neither Kami nor Buddha. In the mountains, Yamabushi studied Kami's creations of nature and the elements, and practiced Buddha's restraint and discipline to hone their spiritual, supernatural and fighting gifts.

In each of the four seasons, Yamabushi monks ascended the sacred mountain, hoping to arouse a Buddha-like nature with austere practices specifically designed for the time of year chosen to achieve enlightenment. In winter, that could mean standing in snow. In spring, a perilous mountain hike in thawing weather. In summer, standing in the cold falls of Ontake. Ascension in the autumnal season, the most unpredictable, could encompass any or all excursions experienced during the other seasons.

On this particular August morning, one of Ontake's residents _descended_ the mountain in the direction of the falls, but she was no mountain warrior or ascetic. At eight years old, Taki Kohaku was the mountain's youngest human inhabitant. It was her birthday today and she started her morning with the same task she performed every year on this day—picking a fresh bouquet of white chrysanthemums (2) to take to her mother's grave. She had donned her best yukata and had taken great pains with her hair, but the stuff refused to cooperate. The thick black strands slipped from the tie at her neck and cascaded over her face. Papa didn't have any hair, only bushy white brows, so she must have inherited the unruly mane from O-kasan (3).

_Papa._ Kohaku inwardly winced and hoped he wouldn't be too upset with her for not announcing her departure. It was early yet, and Kohaku wanted some extra special alone time with O-kasan that morning. She had a secret to share with her.

Kohaku stumbled down the final leg of the mountain path, but made it safely on her feet. No scrapes that time. _Yuki might actually be impressed_, she thought proudly. She dusted off her yukata and fluffed the flowers in her hand before following the narrow path that led to the grave marker at the foot of the falls. As the roaring of the falls grew louder, she fought with a bramble of broad-leafs. Finally breaking through the canopy, she was greeted by the cool spray that misted from the falls. Kohaku breathed deeply of the fresh scent. She loved this mountain, and the falls were one of her favorite places. She hoped her mother's spirit thought the same. It was her resting place after all. Carrying her hopes for the future, Kohaku trotted toward the grave marker. She hadn't gone very far when she halted in mid-step.

Someone was already there.

"Pa—pa…?" No. That wasn't Papa standing over her mother's grave marker. Squinting, Kohaku padded even closer. No, that was definitely not Papa. For one, the man he had to be a man, Kohaku thought was too tall. He also had hair. Lots of it. And it was black. A dark, inky blue-black that reminded Kohaku of ravens wings against winter snow. It fell over his face, shielding his eyes. His clothes were all wrong, too. No suzukake (4) or hakama (5), but a strange white one-piece costume that was a cross between hakama and happi coat 6 over black leggings. And that wasn't a kiseru in his mouth.

Kohaku's nose wrinkled at the malodorous smoke wafting in her direction. "Hey!" shecalled out over the raging falls. "Hey, mister, are you lost or something?"

He turned then, rising to his full height, and Kohaku took a cautious step back while clutching her mother's offering to her chest as if the fragile flowers could offer protection from the looming presence. He wasn't just tall. He was a giant who enshrouded Kohaku's tiny form in shadow. His broad shoulders blocked the sun and sky entirely. Kohaku could only stare up, mouth agape.

"_Gan…kyou_ (7)," she murmured, enthralled.

His eyes were obscured behind the shadowed lenses, but the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. He pulled out the cigarette and exhaled a thick cloud into Kohaku's face. "Child, you're an unholy mess," he spoke in impeccable Japanese.

Whatever spell that had momentarily enraptured Kohaku was broken as she began to hack, the acrid smoke burning her throat and lungs. "Well, that's just rude," she bristled, waving the air around her with the flowers.

"Forgive me." The man scratched his neck sheepishly. "I'm not from this country."

Kohaku's brows narrowed suspiciously. "But you're speaking in Japanese!" she accused.

The stranger's raven brows knitted in consideration. "Hm, you're right."

Kohaku's scowl deepened and her cheeks tinted. "Don't play dumb. Who are you? What business do you have at O-kasan's grave?"

The man held his palms outward in defense, as if he thought she might attack him with the flowers. He looked anything but contrite, however. "Your mother?" he glanced at the grave marker. "I see." he smiled. "You don't look anything like her."

Kohaku decided she didn't like this man. "And how would you know that?" she demanded.

The smile widened. Kohaku didn't like it either. "I knew your mother a long time ago. In Nara. We were… _friends._"

The checklists of dislikes continued to grow and Kohaku found herself taking more cautionary steps away from this stranger. "Who _are_ you?" she demanded again.

"As I said, I was a friend of your mother's. It's nice to meet you…"

"Kohaku." The child deliberately left out her last name. This stranger didn't deserve to know such personal information.

"_Kohaku._" Kohaku swore the man's face would break from his wide smile. "Of course. It…_suits_ you."

"What's _your_ name?" Kohaku asked, unrelenting in her questioning of this man. "It's impolite not introduce yourself to a stranger after they've introduced themselves to you."

"My, you're direct." He chuckled. "Now I see the resemblance."

"Kohaku!" A hoarse but firm voice broke over the rumbling falls.

"Papa!" Kohaku stumbled back, running towards the bald and bushy browed older man who appeared from behind a canopy of broad-leafs. She clutched at the waist of his brown hakama with her free hand and glared at the stranger. Papa would send this man on his way. He was in charge of the mountain after all. He was also the strongest person Kohaku new. Even stronger than Yuki, and he was a kitsune! (8) "Papa, this man says he knew O-kasan!" Kohaku cried out in disbelief, hoping her father would refute this stranger's claim.

The old monk regarded the tall stranger thoughtfully. "I see," he said with a resigned sigh. "Yuki!" the monk called out into the open, his starenever wavering from the stranger's. Moments later a tall, lean figure of a man in his twenties with a riot of red-orange hair and dressed in a black kimono emerged from the foliage. His rich amber-brown eyes looked golden-flecked in the sunlight. He glanced at the raven haired stranger critically but did not speak. "Take Kohaku back," the monk ordered. "See that she eats her breakfast."

The young youkai nodded and plucked Kohaku from the barrier of the Yamabushi's side before tucking her under his arm. _Huh?_ Kohaku blinked. "But Papa! My flowers!" she cried in distress.

"Later, brat." Yuki muttered, walking back towards the narrow path and away from the falls.

The Yamabushi nodded and flashed his daughter a reassuring smile. "We'll come back later," he promised.

Kohaku knew then not to argue and quietly allowed Yuki to carry her back home.

VVV

The Yamabushi waited until Yuki's form disappeared into the foliage before he finally addressed the stranger. "So you're him," he murmured thoughtfully, rummaging through the lapel of his happi coat and removing a black lacquer kiseru. "The sanzo priest. Kohaku's _real_ father."

Ukoku Sanzo's bow was mocking in its depth and he smiled as he spoke. "Thank you for looking afterthe fruit of my loins all these years."

"It was her mother's dying request." The Yamabushi expelled a cloud of smoke.

The sanzo nodded. "She looks in good health, if _unsightly_." he mused. "Her mother was an exceptionally beautiful woman." He peered down at the grave marker, his eyes unreadable behind the spectacles. "A pity."

"I suspected she took after her father in that regard," the Yamabushi chewed on his pipe.

Ukoku laughed and lit a fresh cigarette. "The fallen blossom never returns to the branch (9)."

"You're taking her back with you."

"Yes."

VVV

"Hey, Yuki. Who is that man?" Kohaku murmured against his neck, now sprawled piggy back across the youkai's back. Yuki had carried Kohaku like a sack of rice only a few yards before she began to squirm to be let down. He grudgingly set her down, keeping a firm hold on her hand to ensure she didn't go running back to the grave site. They'd only gotten a few feet before Kohaku stumbled to the ground, crushing her flowers, tearing her yukata and making a mess of her knees. The kitsune muttered irritable curses and insults all the while picking up his charge and placing her gingerly on his back. Yuki didn't answer but his ears twitched suspiciously. Kohaku pulled at a sensitive ear. "Yuki!"

"Goddamnit!" the youkai growled. "Stop that before I bite _your_ ear off!

"Yuki's so funny!" Kohaku laughed, unafraid. "I saw your ears twitch, Yuki! What are they talking about, Papa and that strange man…?" Kohaku scowled. "He said he knew O-kasan. You think he and Papa know each other, too?"

The youkai shrugged, shifting the small bundle on his back. "I don't know," he said evasively. "It's none of my business anyways. Nor is it any of yours," he added before she could pester further. "What the hell were you doing down there by yourself in the first place?" he ragged. "You know you're not allowed to walk the mountain alone. You're such a klutz you would've landed in a ditch or a bog and then that'd be the end of you. No more annoying, hideous Kohaku. Not that I'd care, but Yama-Jii (10) wouldn't shut up about it."

Kohaku looked properly chastised. "I know. I'm sorry," she blushed, pressing her face against the collar of his kimono. "There was something I wanted to tell O-kasan, alone."

"_Tch._"

Kohaku stuck out her tongue.

"I'll bite that off, too."

"Yuki's so mean!" Kohaku cried before settling on his back again. "Hey, Yuki…"

"What?" The youkai rasped impatiently.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

"_Hideous_," he replied in a heartbeat.

Kohaku smiled and closed her eyes, lulled by the steady motion of Yuki's gate up the mountain. _O-kasan, I like Yuki._

VVV

**_China, Chang-An, Temple of the Setting Sun: The Present_**

"_Shit!_" Kohaku muttered in Japanese.

"Excuse me?" monk number one stammered.

Kohaku ignored him. "Do you know when he'll be back?" Damn her rotten luck!

_"No shit,"_ Kyoaku snorted.

"**SHUT UP**,** KYOAKU!"**

Both clerics jumped back, startled by the odd woman's undecipherable outburst.

"Heretic!" monk number two whispered to his companion, gripping the sleeve of his robe. Monk number one nodded in agreement. Both wondered what kind of unholy mess their master had gotten himself into now. First that dirty stray and now—

"What did you say?" Kohaku snarled.

"N-Nothing!"

"Do you know when he'll be back?" she tried again. She could wait a couple of days. Perhaps—

"We're s-sorry m-miss," the clerics stuttered, shrinking back defensively. "We're not at liberty to say."

"I can wait," she threatened.

This earned her more frightful stares. "Please, m-miss, it could be weeks, months even—"

"_Months?_" Kohaku cried out, lapsing into full Japanese now. "Where the hell did he go? A pilgrimage to India?" What the hell kind of priest couldn't be found at his goddamned post when you needed to ask him questions?

_"And cut off an appendage or two or three,"_ Kyoaku added gleefully.

This was beyond unbelievable. Kohaku palmed her face, beyond irritated with her situation. She had been inland for over a year when someone finally tipped her off with information of a sanzo priest in Kinzan Temple. She had gotten there only to find the temple void of human life. A massacre, an old woman at the laundry where Kohaku had found temporary work, had told her. The old woman had also mentioned a temple in Chang-An, but it was weeks before Kohaku could travel due to severe weather. And now, here she was, nearly two years later and she wasn't any further along then when she set out all that time ago.

_"What did that asshole the other night say? Something about daddy dearest being in touch?"_

"Don't try to comfort me, Kyoaku," Kohaku muttered darkly fed up with the sword-spirit.

Kyoaku gave a derisive snort. _"That'll be the day, my little lotus blossom. Remember, you owe me."_

Kohaku squeezed her palm around the sword's hilt.

The monk's started at the motion. "We're really sorry, m-miss!" What they really thought was _Please don't kill us!_

Kohaku grunted in disgust. She needed to calm down. If she lost her control, Kyoaku would take advantage. She took a deep calming breath and focused on the words she needed to say.

"I'm sorry," Kohaku apologized, concentrating on her Chinese again. "It's just that I've come a long way, and your sanzo priest—or maybe even you—might know a fellow monk I'm looking for. He's a sanzo as well. I don't recall his name…but he's traveled to Japan several times. His first trip may have been nearly twenty years ago?" Kohaku was banking on these religious types for keeping meticulous records. Their penchant for organization would be of some use. Maybe there was a scroll or a book somewhere with one of those sticky notes Yuzo was fond of affixing to his text books.

"Priest Genjyo Sanzo would not have been ordained at that time," monk number two said as he shook his head.

"Japan?" monk number one murmured doubtfully. "I've never heard of a sanzo priest traveling that far East."

"Oh believe me, they do." Kohaku muttered cryptically. "This one and my mother were well 'acquainted'." She deliberately emphasized the word acquainted and took a perverse delight in both monks' reactions.

Kyoaku grunted.

"Are you sure he was a sanzo priest?" monk number one asked. "I mean," he added quickly when Kohaku glared at him. "It's just that imposters are not unheard of…"

"Anyone can throw on a priest's robe," monk number two nodded arrogantly. "The sign of a truly ordained sanzo priest are his sutra and forehead chakra."

Kohaku shook her head and tried to recall a memory that just wouldn't come fully. She remembered a costume of white. Maybe a scripture? But all that really stood out were the acrid smell of cigarettes, glasses...

And a smile so perverse that it could not have been misconstrued for fatherly affection, even to an eight year-old.

"My memories are…fuzzy," Kohaku admitted, rubbing her temple. "But someone else confirmed he was a sanzo priest from China and I believe them."

_"A famed sanzo monk__from China, the highest of Buddhist Priests. What woman would deny such a man?" _Kohaku bitterly recalled Kiyou-sensei's (11) words. Was a man's title and position really all that mattered? Kohaku didn't put much stock in such things. Papa had been an important man as Ontake's guardian, but she would have loved him with or without the lofty position amongst his Shugendo peers. Yuki was an anonymous youkai, the last of his kind on Ontake. A nobody to anyone who cared about such frivolities, but he had been everything to Kohaku. After a rocky start, Kohaku couldn't find fault in Tomoko, heiress to one of the most successful iron vehicle companies in Nagoya. She saw passed a person's earthly wealth and treasured the person they were within. Her decision to marry Yuzo, a lowly worker in her fathers company, made her a benevolent goddess in Kohaku's mind.

Kohaku shook her head. "Are there other sanzo priests besides the one at this temple?" she asked hopefully.

Monk number two nodded. "Indeed."

"Really?" This cheered Kohaku. "Where?"

"Um," monk number two stammered.

"We don't know, exactly." monk number one answered.

"Don't you keep a directory or something?" Kohaku bristled, at her wits end with these monks. Why was this so hard?

"Well, no."

"Well, you _should!_"

VVV

_"So that's it then? This is the kind of operation you run here; whoring yourselves to Buddha and his earthly representatives."_

_"You have to understand—"_

_"I understand all I need to know. My mother was a plaything. That's what this place is, a haven for cast off toys. Once your fathers and husbands have no more use for you they send you here. Or, destitute, you tell yourselves this place is your only choice, a life of 'unforced' devotion to a god with little regard for your sex. Every day you memorize and chant useless sutras in a foreign language that curses your very existence. I can't even pity you."_

_"Think what you want, Kohaku, but don't be mistaken. Your mother wasn't a victim. She sought him out."_

_"Piece of work, that mother of yours,"_ Kyoaku remarked, blithely interrupting Kohaku's uneasy reminiscing.

"You shut up about my mother." Kohaku barked. "You don't get to say a goddamned thing about my parents, you wretched bastard."

_"Ho! Aren't we in a snit?"_ Kyoaku cackled. "_What would the old man say if he heard you now?"_

"I said **SHUT UP**!"

"Hey, Mom, isn't that the crazy woman from the—"

"Get over here, you!"

Kohaku looked up to see the same woman and child she had seen at the Chow's restaurant the night she'd first inquired about the dishwashing job. The little boy, showing more bravado by approaching Kohaku in the out of doors, was forcibly yanked back by his mother before he could grab a hold of Kohaku's sleeve. The woman muttered a quick apology as she hurried away, dragging her son along with her.

Taking in her surroundings, Kohaku winced. That's right. After leaving the temple, she'd ended up in the town park. From the look of things, it was _the_ social spot on a warm spring Saturday afternoon. Children ran around screaming and laughing as they gave chase over meticulously cut lawns and hid behind stone carvings. Young couples walked side by side down gorgeous cobblestone paths or stood abreast and shared meaningful looks beneath orange trees. Even married couples enjoyed a lazy stroll amidst the breezy spring air as their children ran amok.

Kohaku stood from the stone bench she occupied and followed the cobblestone path that led out of the park toward the surrounding wooded area. Several onlookers openly stared and whispered, but Kohaku ignored them. She was used to the scrutiny. Insults were some of the first words Kohaku learned in Chinese, as early as the ferry ride to Taiwan and then on to Nanking. Crazy foreigner. Crazy Jap. Crazy foreign bitch. Crazy ass bitch. Kohaku knew at least a dozen or more variations of slurs with the words foreigner, crazy, and bitch in Chinese, Japanese and even Korean.

She was a foreigner in a foreign land. Add to that a longstanding history of animosity between China and the country of her birth and the resentful comments didn't completely shock her. She was a woman in a man's world. Men and women as equals was an illusion. And as for the crazy comments, Kohaku realized she brought that upon herself. She could commune with Kyoaku inwardly and avoid the strange looks and murmurs, but she preferred to respond to the sword-kami out loud. It made her feel sane.

The irony wasn't lost on Kohaku. Responding verbally to Kyoaku served to remind Kohaku of one very important thing; her existence. Her tongue, her customs, her homeland…these were things that tied her to this earth. They were proofs of her humanity. They were also reminders of those she left behind in Japan; Yuzo and Tomoko, her adoptive father and Yuki; and, her mother, a woman who confounded Kohaku as much as her estranged foreigner father.

_I sometimes wonder how they ever even married; _those were An-Mei's words from the other night, echoing back in Kohaku's head. She too often wondered of her own parent's bizarre relationship. At one time, Kohaku had naively thought she understood the deep feelings between a man and a woman. She had loved Yuki deeply, had been devoted to him completely. The differences between them were of no importance. Age, race, these were inconsequential things. She accepted him as he was. Nothing else mattered. Was it the same with her parents? Did the connection they have transcend duty and doctrine?

_She wasn't a victim._ _She sought him out. _Kohaku replayed her conversation with Kiyou-sensei at the Hokkeji Nunnery (12) in Nara two years past. She'd nearly driven poor Tomoko and Yuzo mad with her singled minded purpose of reaching Nara and the nunnery where her mother resided before her death in search of answers, but the outcome resulted in less answers and only more puzzling questions.

What the hell did Kiyou-sensei mean? What drove her parents together if not deep feeling and genuine regard? Had it just been lust and base desire? Or was it defiance? Rebelling against religious doctrine? Kohaku needed to rationalize their heretical union, which was why she was trying to find _him._

Kohaku scowled. Heretic. She especially hated that slur. Heretic was a direct insult to her existence. Whatever the circumstances behind her conception, heretical in the eyes of Buddha, Kohaku refused to see herself as an abomination. No matter what markings she was forced to bare to the world, she was not an example to be made of. She was a human being with the right to a decent life same as any other creature that walked this earth. Her parents sins were not her own.

"Fuck Buddha and the horse he rode in," Kohaku muttered.

_"Well said,"_ Kyoaku chuckled.

"You're not off the hook."

_"Like I give a shit."_

Kohaku sighed and ran a weary hand through her hair. She was tired of bickering with Kyoaku and of thinking of her parents. Her mother was long dead; there was nothing to be done about that. Her father was an enigma and trying to puzzle his intentions was exhausting. Why travel all the way to Japan to take her back, only to leave her behind?

And now…

_He'd be in touch_ was what Yu had said before she'd taken the lackey's life. Kohaku looked every which way before slumping to the ground, crossing her knees in front of her. She took out her kiseru. There was no point in exhausting herself anymore if she didn't know where she was going.

VVV

"_I'm OK, You're My Parents: How to Overcome Guilt, Let Go of Anger, and Create a Relationship That Works_ (13). _How to Say It to Girls: Communicating with Your Growing Daughter_ (14). _Fathers of a Certain Age: The Joys & Problems of Middle-Aged Fatherhood_ (15)… holy shit!" Old Man Wang cackled hysterically, brushing the books from the chess board to set his pieces. "Lady Gyokumen isn't…"

"Hardly." Ni smirked. "A child of taboo would be of no use to her or the resurrection project." He stuck his cigarette between his teeth and closed the book he was reading, making a mental note of where he left off before he set about arranging his own pieces.

"Hm." Wang murmured, chin in hand as he regarded the board in front of him. "So what you said the other day was true. You've a brat skulking about somewhere." He shrugged. "Strapping man in your prime… a girl, eh? Girls can be troublesome."

Ni arched a quizzical brow.

"Take that one for example." Wang pointed a clawed finger towards the hall.

"Big brother!" Lirin's sing-song squeal echoed down the corridor as she ran passed the laboratory. "Let's play hide and seek!"

"Lady Lirin!" Yaone's soft trill followed after. "Please wait, Lady Lirin!"

"Troublesome," Wang muttered moving a pawn.

"Hm," Ni shrugged carelessly and then smiled. "Girls are fun."

VVV

_"Hey. Hey! Wake up you lazy—"_

"Huh?" Kohaku sat up blinking back cobwebs and floaters as she was roused by an incessant beeping noise near her head. The corner of her mouth was suspiciously sticky and she wiped at it as her eyes focused in the dark. "_Shit!_"

_"That thing still works?"_ Kyoaku grunted.

Kohaku sought the annoying beeping device in her satchel which she used as a pillow moments ago. She'd forgotten all about her cell phone, a parting gift from Yuzo and Tomoko before she mounted the passenger boat at Nagoya Harbor. The thing spent more time turned off or dead as Kohaku would often forget to charge it. On occasion she'd receive a random text message or phone call from Tomoko, and with the baby on the way—

The baby!

"It's probably about the baby," Kohaku murmured hoarsely as she rubbed her eyes. She flipped open the phone, the cat-bell strap chiming with the movement. How many months along was Tomoko now? Seven? Eight?

_"What a waste of a perfectly good piece of—"_

"Would you shut up?" Kohaku muttered before the sword-kami could finish his crass comment regarding Tomoko's attractive person.

_"Tch."_

"Hm, it's a text message…" she squinted, "from…" Kohaku paled in the darkness, the phone nearly falling from her lax grip. "No… way…" the words stuck in her throat. She gripped the phone in her hand, the orange plastic skin creaking in her palm. _How did he get this number?_

Kohaku could sense Kyoaku's maniacal grin.

The small phone screen glowed bright against the dark with a simple message in kana: "O-kaeri (16)."

* * *

**Chapter Notes:**

(1) Mount Ontake has several names to distinguish it from other mountains with similar sounding names in Japan. Kiso Ontake refers to the Kiso Valley.

(2) In Japan, white chrysanthemums are symbolic of death and are only used for funerals or on graves. In China, white chrysanthemums are symbolic of lamentation.

(3) Japanese Romaji: mother.

(4) Yamabushi Clothing: shirt.

(5) Yamabushi Clothing: pleated pants.

(6) Japanese Clothing: short-length overcoat.

(7) Japanese Romaji: spectacles; glasses.

(8) Japanese Mythology Fox Demon.

(9) Japanese Buddhist Proverb said of the parents of crippled or deformed children. But the popular idea here expressed is not altogether in accord with the teachings of the higher Buddhism. The proverb is also an abbreviation of a longer text; "The fallen blossom never returns to the branch; the shattered mirror never again reflects."

(10) Japanese Honorific/Nickname: Yama abbreviation for Yamabushi, Jii abbreviation of O-Jiisan; Old Man, Grandfather.

(11) Japanese Romaji: sensei can be used fawningly in addressing or talking about charismatic business, political, and _religious_ leaders (especially un-ordained ones). Japanese speakers will also use the term sarcastically to ridicule overblown or fawning adulation of such leaders.

(12) Located in Nara, Japan, the Great Hokkeji Nunnery in the thirteenth century was a very prominent nunnery with hundreds of practicing women living there; it also served as the headquarters of a network of Buddhist nunneries.

(13)_ I'm_ _OK, You're My Parents: How to Overcome Guilt, Let Go of Anger, and Create a Relationship That Works_ By Dale Atkins.

(14) _How to Say It to Girls: Communicating with Your Growing Daughter _By Nancy Gruver.

(15) _Fathers of a Certain Age: The Joys & Problems of Middle-Aged Fatherhood_ By David and Martin Carnet.

(16) Japanese Romaji: welcome home.


End file.
